


By Any Other Name

by tmariea (OccasionalArtist)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Loveless AU, M/M, Spell battle, Violence, blood mention, caring for each other's injuries, implied mature themes, injury mention, some amount of sleepy cuddles because it's me writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalArtist/pseuds/tmariea
Summary: A name is central to the relationship between a fighter and sacrifice pair.  It is a symbol of their bond, and a source of their power.  For Mikleo and Sorey, a blank fighter with a name from a previous sacrifice, and a sacrifice missing the other half of his given name, it’s the one thing they lack.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [defragmentise (croixsouillees)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/croixsouillees/gifts).



> That one Loveless AU I've been talking about for a while!! Thank you so much to defragmentise for encouraging, and looking it over, and drawing!! You've definitely been a big help.
> 
> For anyone who does not know the context of Loveless, a few concepts worth knowing:  
> \- Fighting pairs are comprised of two people who share a name between them. One is the fighter, whose job is to cast spells against opponent pairs and protect their sacrifice, and one is the sacrifice, who takes all damage from the battle.  
> \- Certain fighters and sacrifices are born 'blank,' without a name of their own. They can be given any name.  
> \- People are born with ears and tails. They disappear when someone loses their virginity.

Mikleo could feel them waiting as soon as he got out of school.  They weren’t at the gates, which was some small blessing, but close enough that he picked up on the teeth-shuddering vibrations of another pair’s domain.  It made his ears and tail twitch with discomfort.  Given the way just about everyone and anyone had sought him out, to test Enforcer’s fighter now that he was with a new sacrifice – a sacrifice who had a different name – he doubted this pair had any better intentions.

He was halfway decided to go deal with the situation himself when a weight collided with his back, nearly pitching him forward onto his face.  A pair of arms wrapped around his waist to steady him, and a voice said happily in his ear, “Mikleo!  I missed you!”

“You saw me at lunch,” Mikleo said, wiggling his way out of the hold and turning around to face Sorey.  One hand came up to his face to try to hide some of the redness there.  “And do you have to be such a sap in public?”

Sorey’s ears were perked up, and his tail – much more puppy-like than Mikleo’s – practically wagged despite the scolding.  He planted his hands on his hips, and said, “Well, of course!  Now, I thought we could go to the museum this afternoon.  Coming?”

Mikleo shook his head.  “I would like to, but we have a situation.  What are your orders?”

Sorey’s tail stopped wagging, his face suddenly much more serious.  “Where?”

“I think they’re in the park down the road; at least they picked a convenient spot.”

“Let’s take care of it, then.”  The way Sorey spoke didn’t smack so much like an order, the way a sacrifice was supposed to behave towards his fighter.  It was more like a suggestion.  The higher-ups back at the academy would have scolded, but Mikleo didn’t mind.  It felt like more even ground between them this way.

Mikleo nodded and said, “We should get going, before they come looking for us.”  He started to walk in the direction of the park, taking note of how the vibrations shifted in the air.

Sorey fell into step with him and took his hand.  Mikleo flushed red, for the second time in a matter of minutes, and turned away, cursing his traitor cheeks.  He was smiling, though.

Mikleo had always known, more as a matter of fact than any sort of personal experience, that the bond between fighting pairs could be exceptionally close.  He hadn’t known, until he’d been introduced to the boy who would become his new sacrifice, that it was possible to fall for someone quite that fast.  And yet, here he was.

The walk towards the park was outwardly uneventful.  To any other observer, they looked no different from any other pair of young sweethearts.  It was the sort of thing which would have given Mikleo pause, if he wasn’t too busy sounding out their opponents’ domain.  It was strong, but there was something rather slippery about it, too, and hard to hold onto.  He had an idea who it might be – he’d heard of a pair with a domain like this before, but he’d never fought them himself.  But, any knowledge at all would be an advantage.

Sure enough, as they turned onto one of the gravel paths into the park, he could see two girls in the distance.  They were identical in every aspect, from their faces and matching bored expressions, to their orange flower hair ties, small black shorts and sheer purple shirts.  Mikleo subconsciously gave a squeeze to Sorey’s hand.

“That’s them?” he asked.

Mikleo nodded.  “The Symonne twins.  No one knows their first names, outside of themselves, but that seems to suit them just fine.”

“I’m guessing they’re tough, then, if they’ve got a reputation?”

Mikleo nodded again.

“Man, I really was hoping to go to the museum today,” Sorey said with a sigh.  But he squeezed Mikleo’s hand one more time before letting go and sweeping it out in a dramatic ‘after you’ gesture.  “I suppose we should.”

They kept going until they stood ten feet from the twins, and then stopped.

The girls gave a disdainful hum in tandem, and then said, “We are **Void**.   **We are the crushing darkness, the terrifying unknown, a nothingness that will steal your breath and rip you apart.** ”  As they spoke, ripples flowed through their domain from between them, strengthening their connection on every beat.  Mikleo could feel it thrumming against his chest, but he stood his ground.  Incantation complete, one twin stepped back, the one whom he assumed was the sacrifice.

“And you are Enforcer.  And Shepherd,” the sacrifice drawled.  She sounded bored.

“Shameful, really,” added the fighter.  “Taking a new sacrifice.  How can you possibly live with yourself?”

Mikleo saw Sorey rock forward on the balls of his feet from the corner of his eye, and brushed a calming hand along his arm.  He didn’t care too much about the comments.  Enforcer wasn’t even truly his name.  He’d never had one bestowed on him, only carved into his skin with a knife when he had become useful.  And then Uncle Michael had died, but Mikleo was still useful anyway.  Too useful to be left in peace.

“I see no need for preamble.  Shall we begin?” he asked.  The annoyance that flitted across the fighter’s face when he didn’t react how she had wanted made the corners of his lips twitch.

“So be it.   **Battle systems initiate!** ”

“ **Accepted**.”          

Void’s fighter wasted no time in starting.  “ **Hit.  Strike.  Pierce** ,” she called rapid-fire.  The casting was fast, on par with some of the better fighters Mikleo had faced, but the spells were simple.  They didn’t require finesse in response, just matching speed.  He had the feeling she wasn’t doing much more than sounding him out.

“ **Guard.  Defend.  Shield** ,” Mikleo snapped back, and felt the force of the spells dissipate against a barrier of his own power.  Then, before she could start again, he said, “ **Spectral Cloak**.”  It was a barrier spell of his creation, meant to protect the outside world from the effects of a spell battle.

“You’re no fun,” griped Void’s sacrifice.  “I like it when things break.”

“That’s unkind,” Sorey said from beside Mikleo.  Unlike most sacrifices, he hadn’t taken a step back when the battle began.  The practice of hanging back behind his fighter had never sat well with him.

The twins both shrugged their indifference.  Mikleo used the pause to retort, “ **Aqua Serpent – bite, drown**!”  A torrent of water rushed from the air in front of him, roaring into jaws and fangs as it rushed for Void’s sacrifice.

“ **Nothing passes through void.  It leaves nothing.  It swallows, it rends**.”

Most of the water vanished, but a thin trail darted through and found its mark.  The sacrifice hardly twitched as it scored her hand.

Mikleo had no chance to celebrate the small hit.  He scrambled out, “ **Defense**!”  Far too simple for the complexity of the offense, but he slammed raw power behind the word.  Threading a new spell so seamlessly into the end of a defensive spell took skill, and it had caught him off guard.  He wouldn’t make that mistake again.  Especially as Sorey gasped as shards of the spell broke past.

After the pause of his messy defense, weaving another spell out of the twins’ last wouldn’t be as effective as if he’d caught it right away, but any advantage was worth taking.  “ **Vortex swallows sure as void.  Drag to the depths**.”

“ **Nothingness is untouchable** ,” the fighter insisted, but the sacrifice staggered, her back bowed.  A cuff clapped around her wrist before she had the chance to stand again.

Mikleo didn’t give her the chance before whipping out the next spell.  “ **Then fill the nothingness.  Twin flow**.”

Still reeling from the landed hit, it was Void’s turn for a messy protective spell.  Matching snarls contorted their faces.  Mikleo braced for them to turn the words of his spell as he had done, but they changed tactics.  “ **Rend.  Rip.  Divide.  Separate.  Tear apart.** ”

The spells were simple, but aimed this time at the biggest weakness between Mikleo and Sorey.  Without a name, their bond was fragile, open to attack.  Almost as instinctively as any spell, Mikleo reached for Sorey.  A warm hand was there to meet his halfway and squeeze tight.  “ **Unity.  Bond.  Strength.  Indivisible** ,” Mikleo returned, but he knew they did not have the shared power to back his words.  He held Sorey’s hand tighter and promised they would not break apart.  But he knew they would take damage.

The power of the spell was like needles in his skin.  They dragged it open across his arms and his face.  The fabric of his sweater shredded, but took the majority of the damage.  Beside him, Sorey grunted hard and sudden, the air rushing from his lungs under the power of the hit.  Underneath, sounded the clink of chains.  A shackle each at their clasped hands, and when Mikleo looked over, another at the hand Sorey had clenched to his side.

“Sorey!”

“I’m alright,” he hissed through his teeth.  His voice was laced with pain, but he stood straighter and stared down the twins with determination in his eyes.  “Keep going.”

Mikleo nodded and called, “ **Rain of ice.  Tearing wind.  Violent storm**.”

The wind picked up and screamed in their ears.  The fighter had to yell to be heard as she countered.  “ **Void is cold.  It is violence.  Our nature does not harm us**.”  But rain and wind were not of the void.  Another shackle closed around the sacrifice’s wrist.

They were slipping, and it made Mikleo smile.  Void seemed to notice it too; something worried crossed their faces, before it was replaced with something far more devious.  “ **Deprivation of the void – take sight, take sound.  Then give it back.** ”  The fighter’s grin as she spoke was vicious.

The spell was wicked fast; before Mikleo even had the chance to speak, his senses vanished, and then flickered back into being.  It was as if a veil had been placed across his vision; he could still see the twins, but they were blurred behind a wavering stream of images – the faces of those he’d known and loved, gone pale and dead; Sorey turning away from him, to face a man with ‘Shepherd’ inscribed on his arm; a flash of Michael’s smile and the timbre of his voice in Mikleo’s ear, which tilted upward into a shriek.  Mikleo felt his heart speeding up and his breath coming shallow.  All of it would choke him, or perhaps that was the collar forming around his neck.  Behind it all, the twins were giggling.

“Best attend to your sacrifice,” said the fighter.  “Looks like he’s taking the worst of it.”

That’s right, he could still hear the twins, still see them.  It wasn’t real, he was okay.  But, Sorey… Mikleo shook off the indistinct illusion and glanced over in time to see Sorey sink to his knees.  One hand tugged as his own collar, and the other was stretched out in front of him, searching.

“Mikleo?” he said, his voice frantic and choked with tears.  His ears lay flat in his hair, and his eyes stared forward, wide and sightless.  “Mikleo!?”

“ **Freeze** ,” Mikleo commanded, and tried to channel the fear in his heart for Sorey into the strength of his spell.  “ **Carve safety from ice, from snow, from frozen time**.”  He didn’t wait to see the twins stutter and slow in their movements before he dropped down before Sorey and took his hand.  It lay limp and unresponsive in his palm.  He had to squash down his impulse to panic; it would do no one good.

Snow was starting to fall around them, in tiny cold pinpricks on his skin.  Sorey’s breathing still came too fast and too loud, but he took his hand away from the collar and held it palm up, as if to feel the snowflakes.  His other hand twitched, and then clenched around Mikleo’s.  “Mikleo?” he said again, but this time he sounded more confused than panicked.

“I’m right here,” Mikleo continued.  “You can feel me, they didn’t take that.  I’m right here, and **you will stay with me**.”  Even if Sorey couldn’t hear him through the illusion, hopefully the words of the spell would hit.  He grabbed Sorey’s shirt in his free hand and dragged him forward into a kiss.

Sorey gasped and wrapped his arms tight around Mikleo.  He broke the kiss and buried his head in Mikleo’s shoulder.  “You’re okay.”

“Yes, and I’m right here.”  Mikleo held him for a second more, and then pulled away.  As he did, he saw that Sorey’s eyes were clear, if a bit watery.  He twisted on his heels so he was facing the twins, but still left his own body as a shield between them and Sorey.

“What are your orders?” he asked.  Looking out at the twins, who were laughing – _laughing_ – at Sorey’s pain and fear, he was brimming with rage.  He wanted to grind them into the dirt.

“We should finish what we started,” Sorey said.  His voice was firm despite his scare only moments ago, and Mikleo couldn’t prevent pride from welling up in his chest.  It was a much better feeling than so much anger.

“You got it.   **By ice and frost and freezing winds.  Your fate has been set.  Rime Slaughter**.”

A geometric pattern in glowing blue formed at the twins’ feet, slipping past their front-facing defense.  From it, burst wicked sharp shards of ice that whipped about them in a strong wind.  Even as the ice sought its target, frost flowers bloomed on the twins’ skin.  Mikleo knew from experience that it was cold enough to burn.  The sacrifice shrieked in pain and anger, as strap after strap of leather bound her arms and legs together, rendering her immobile.  Half a moment later, it was over.

“ **I call your defeat** ,” Mikleo stated in a voice that betrayed none of his emotions.  The effects of both pairs’ spells melted away, along with their bindings.  Mikleo wouldn’t have minded letting the twins hurt a bit longer, but he knew Sorey wouldn’t have approved.

The feeling of the domains melted away, along with all of Mikleo’s energy.  He had been crouching still in front of Sorey still, and he ended up sitting down hard, with a groan.  A short distance away, the twins were groaning, too, as they tried to recover.

“Mikleo, are you okay?” Sorey hastened to ask.  His arm came up around his shoulders to support him in case he toppled the rest of the way over.

“We did it,” Mikleo said, and then held up a closed fist.  Sorey complied and their forearms together, but then waited for an answer.  “I’m fine, just tired.”  He brought a hand over his mouth to cover his sigh.  He didn’t really need Sorey to hold him up, but oh if he didn’t lean back into that hold just a bit.  It was so warm, and even if his ice spells wouldn’t hurt them, there were still goosebumps up and down his arms.  “But what about you?”

“Ah, I’m alright!”

“No, don’t try to pull that one on me.  I know you’re not okay.  I should rephrase – what hurts?”  Mikleo turned around in time to see Sorey sheepishly trying to cover up the fact that he’d been holding his hand to his side.  He got a glimpse of a red palm before it was tucked away.

“That one I guess you can see,” Sorey said, and went to reach up and scratch the back of his head.  He only got about halfway there before he winced, and dropped his arm again.  “And I was scared,” he admitted, looking down and away, “scared you were gone.”

Mikleo crossed his arms and turned away with a fake pout.  “As if you could get rid of me that easily.”  He only held the pose for a moment before letting the corners of his mouth twitch up.  When he glanced back at Sorey, he had managed a small, relieved smile, too.

“I guess I should have known better.”

“Yes, you should have,” Mikleo said, still rolling with the teasing.  But then he let his expression turn more serious, and added, “But, I won’t be going anywhere.  Now, should we head home?”

“Yeah, sounds great.  Gramps won’t be home until late tonight, so we can go to mine.  It’s closer.”

Mikleo nodded, and began to pick himself off the ground.  Easier said than done with limbs that felt like jelly, but he managed with only minimal groaning.  “Can you stand?”

“I think so,” Sorey said, but he still took the hand Mikleo offered, anyway, and let him sling his arm across his shoulder.

At some point, the twins had slunk off.  That was probably for the best.  There was absolutely no need for anyone to witness how much this fight had reduced the two of them to a wobbly mess.  Mikleo wrapped an arm around Sorey’s waist, when he saw that he was having even more trouble.  His tail came up just below his arm, to reinforce his position, and the end wrapped protectively around Sorey’s wrist.

“Cute,” Sorey murmured, which made Mikleo blush.  He curled his fingers up so he could just barely brush Mikleo’s fur, which sent a tingle of sensation up his back, and made him blush even more.

“I’m going to leave you here if you’re just going to be sappy.”

“I can stop if you really want me to.”

Mikleo turned away, so he wouldn’t have to look Sorey in the eyes, when he said, “No, you don’t need to stop.”

“Thank you,” Sorey said, contented as could be, and didn’t let up with his tiny pets for the whole, slogging walk.

By the time they made it back to Sorey’s house, he was leaning heavily on Mikleo.  His hands fumbled with the key in the lock, until Mikleo took it from him and opened the door.

“How are you doing?”

“Tired,” Sorey grumbled, and pressed his forehead into Mikleo’s shoulder.  “And I have a headache.”

Mikleo gave a comforting squeeze with the arm wrapped around his waist.  “Alright, shoes off and up the stairs then.  We’ll get cleaned up, and then you can nap.”

“Alright,” Sorey echoed, drawing out the syllables of the word.

“That means you’re going to have to walk.”

Sorey made a noise somewhere between a grumble and a whine, but he did move to follow as Mikleo shuffled them into the house and closed the door behind them.  Thankfully, Sorey had never been good about keeping his shoes in top condition, which made them easy to kick off.  The trip upstairs was slower, with Sorey dragging his feet, and weighing Mikleo down.  As soon as they made it into Sorey’s bedroom, Mikleo pushed him down to sitting on the bed.  “Don’t lay down yet, unless you want blood on your sheets,” he called over his shoulder as he made his way into the bathroom.  An affirmative grumble sounded behind him.

The first aid kit was in the cabinet under the sink, and would need restocking soon.  They’d been in this situation often enough that these were details he knew.  There should be enough supplies for today, though, if he was remembering correctly.  He filled a glass with water from the tap and carried everything back to the bedroom.

Sorey was slouching where he sat, and his eyes had fallen nearly shut.  It was a great opportunity to sneak up and press a kiss to the top of his head.  A smile crept slowly across Sorey’s face.

“Here, for your headache,” Mikleo said, and held out the water, and two pain pills he’d fished out of the kit.

“Thanks.”

As Sorey swallowed down the pills and a big gulp of water, Mikleo rummaged in the kit for antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages.   “You’re going to have to figure out how to explain this one.”  He brushed the edges of the tear in Sorey’s shirt; blood had soaked into the fabric in a ring.

“I’ve gotten pretty good at washing blood out of things by now,” Sorey said with a sheepish grin.

“That is not a comfort.”

“Yeah, I figured it wouldn’t be.  Do you want me to take this off?”

“Here, let me.”  Mikleo slid his hands under the hem of Sorey’s shirt, and gently lifted it away, so that it wouldn’t catch on the cut.  He sucked in a breath once it was revealed; it was deeper than he had originally thought.  “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Mikleo sighed.  “Because I’m your fighter.  It’s my job to serve and protect you, and you got hurt.”

“I know I’m fairly new to this, but isn’t my job to take damage for you so you can fight?  We have an equal hand in protecting each other here.  I’m not letting you take all the blame.”

“Neither of us is going to win, huh?”

“Nope.  So, I order you to not to feel guilty about it,” Sorey said, and turned his nose up and away from Mikleo.

“I shouldn’t have taught you that trick, should I have?”

“No, you really shouldn’t have.”

While they spoke, Mikleo had set out his supplies and soaked a cotton ball in antiseptic.  He laid his right hand just under the gash, warning Sorey that he was going to start.  Sorey nodded, and preemptively clenched his hands into the sheets.  As soon as Mikleo touched the cotton to the wound, he hissed in pain and then clamped his teeth onto his lip.  Even around his teeth he murmured, “Ow, ow, ow – shit – ow.”  Mikleo stroked his thumb along the still-intact skin beneath the gash, as a silent apology.

Thankfully, there wasn’t much cleaning needed; the wound had bled enough to wash out any particles of dirt or grime.  So Mikleo just did a cautionary pass against infection.  It had clotted, but began to bleed again as he worked, so he wiped away the new blood with a piece of gauze, and then held a clean pad of it over Sorey’s ribs.  “Here, pressure for a moment,” he advised, and waited until Sorey’s hand came to replace his own before starting to wrap bandaging around his waist to keep it in place.  Once it was wrapped and fastened, Mikleo leaned down to kiss the top of the bandage.  He kept his touch feather-light, to not cause any more undue pain, and then placed another just above, so this time Sorey could feel it.

“What’s that for?” Sorey asked, sounding both amused and fond.

Mikleo flushed and glanced away.  “That one’s a thanks, not a sorry.  For taking damage for me.  So no objecting.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The rest of the cleanup was easy by comparison.  Sorey had a number of cuts on his arms and a small one just above the corner of his jaw.  Mikleo cleaned them all out carefully, before covering them up with smaller bandages.  His wrists and neck were pink and irritated from the cuffs and collar, but massaging a strong lotion into the skin would have that cleared up in a matter of hours.  By the time he was done, Sorey looked about ready to drop.

“Alright, you should get some sleep,” Mikleo said, while he stood and moved to discard the used cotton balls in the trash.  Then he turned to rummage in Sorey’s drawers for a clean shirt, one which wasn’t stained by blood.  He paused for a second, and then pulled out a second for himself, a light blush dusting his cheeks.  His own shirt was truly shredded though.

“What about you?” Sorey asked.  Every syllable was drenched with exhaustion, and it looked as if he was only still sitting up on sheer force of will.  Even if he wanted to help, Mikleo half expected him to fall asleep partway through the process.

“I don’t have much.”  A cut on the back of his hand, and a few on his forearms.  Nothing like Sorey’s impressive collection.  “I can manage.”  He turned back and handed the shirt to Sorey.

Sorey took it and put his arms through the holes, which Mikleo worked on changing out of his own ruined clothing.  Dragging it over his head made Sorey wince just a bit, but he managed.  Once his head emerged from the collar, he looked at Mikleo with a frown.  “I want to return the favor.”

“And I think you’ll just fall asleep and drop all this nice, sterile first aid stuff on the floor.”  Mikleo shot back.  But, he did shift his pile of supplies and sat on the bed next to Sorey.  He scooted closer until their sides were pressed together, with Sorey just slightly behind.  He took one of Sorey’s arms and guided it around his waist.  “Now, you can put your head on my shoulder and fall asleep there.”

“Seems more like you’re just helping me again.”

“No, I am definitely being selfish.”

Sorey hummed, and tightened his arm before doing as Mikleo asked and resting his chin on his shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Mikleo replied, before getting to work on his own clean up.  Despite the fact that it only took a matter of minutes to sanitize and bandage himself, by the time he was done, Sorey had started snoring lightly in his ear.  “Well, I did invite this,” he grumbled to himself, and then set aside the first aid supplies before nudging Sorey’s uninjured side gently.

“Wha?”

“I win.  I knew you would fall asleep.”

“Ah,” Sorey paused for a jaw-creaking yawn, “Guess so.”

“Wow, you must really be tired if you’re conceding.  Anyway, I’m done, so let’s sleep for real.”

“Sure, sure.”

The two of them scooted up the bed, and Sorey was out again the moment his head touched the pillow.  That left Mikleo with the job of trying to coax the blankets out from under him, and finally covering them up.  He tucked his head into the crook of Sorey’s neck, and settled in for his own nap.

By the time Mikleo stirred again, the he could see the sun starting to set through the windows.  It fell just right to gild the tips of Sorey’s hair in light gold.  He reached up a hand to stroke through it, and scratch at the backs of Sorey’s ears, watching the way the light shifted.

Sorey hummed faintly and snuggled up closer to Mikleo for a moment before his eyes opened.  “Good morning,” he said, voice still fuzzy with sleep.

“We didn’t sleep that long,” Mikleo said, and continued petting Sorey’s ears.  He leaned into the touch.  “How are you feeling for the rest?”

“Better, thanks.  The headache is gone at least.  Although, I could go for some dinner.”

“Sure, but in a little bit.”

“Yeah, of course,” Sorey said, recognizing even if it wasn’t said that Mikleo just wanted to hold him longer.

He didn’t want to say it out loud, but the fight had shaken him.  It had been a hard one, and try as he might the illusions were still in his head.  Worse, the sight of Sorey so broken under their weight.  His hands trembled just a bit even as they kept moving in Sorey’s hair.

“How are you feeling?” Sorey asked, the look on his face saying that he already knew.

Mikleo sighed and ducked his head so he could hide his face in Sorey’s collar.  “I will be fine.”

Sorey hummed an acknowledgement.  “I wish,” He started, and then paused to sigh, “I wish I could have your name.”  He encouraged Mikleo to look back up at him, and then gently tugged down the collar of Mikleo’s shirt, just enough to see the spot where ‘ENFORCER’ was carved into his skin.  He ran his thumb across the old scar; Mikleo inhaled as he did, and his tail twitched where it was curled over his hip.

“It’s not even my name.  But we could still share a name.  You could give me yours.”  He wished Sorey would.  He wanted it so badly, and not just because it would help them in battle.  ‘Enforcer’ was cold and strict, whereas ‘Shepherd’ spoke to leadership and gentleness, and Sorey himself.  If it was Sorey, he would allow himself to be claimed.

But Sorey was shaking his head, his ears flattened down into his hair.  “I don’t want to hurt you like that!”

“It only hurts for a moment.”  It would hurt less than the old claims and memories.  “And then, we’ll be a named pair.”

“I-I don’t know if I can do it.  What if my hands shake?” His hands were already shaking a bit as they traced down Mikleo’s arms.

“I trust you.”

“That sounded almost like a compliment.  You must really mean it.”  Sorey laughed, and it was a bit shaky, too.  But the wrinkle in his brow looked less like worry and more like he was thinking.

If he was willing to consider it, Mikleo figured that maybe he just needed a little push.  He reached out to take Sorey’s face in his hands, and pulled them together for a kiss.  Lips parted, and tongues pressed together.  Sorey’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, and held Mikleo closer.  When they moved away for a breath, Mikleo kept eye contact with Sorey and said, “I want this, too, and not just to make battles easier.  I want your name.”

Sorey was silent for some moments, thinking.  Mikleo left him to it.  He didn’t speak, but instead lifted his hand to Sorey’s head to scratch at his scalp and ears again.  The tension flowed out of his body under the touch, and, only a moment later, he bit his lip and nodded.  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Mikleo’s eyes widened; he had half expected Sorey to still refuse.  But he hadn’t.  “Thank you,” he said, with a tremble in his voice.

“So, what do I need to do?”

“There’s a small knife in the first aid kit.  And you should bring a towel or a rag; I probably shouldn’t bleed on your bed,” Mikleo directed.  The last bit had been an attempt to lighten the situation, but by Sorey’s face, it hadn’t really worked.  He climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom anyway.

Mikleo raised a hand to his forehead and smoothed it down his face with a shaky exhale.  Nerves and excitement were swirling in his gut, but for Sorey’s sake he would have to stay calm and collected.

Sorey returned a moment later, and set a hand towel on the nightstand.    He opened the kit, pulled out the knife, and used an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball to wash it down before putting it aside.  “Where should I – ?” he asked.

Mikleo lifted an arm and held it out towards Sorey in the same way as their handshake.  Sorey brought his own arm up and touched them together, but he shook his head.  “You already have to wear high collars, I don’t want you to have to wear long sleeves all the time, too.”

Both of them paused to ponder for a moment, before Mikleo suggested, “My side, then?”

Sorey breathed out a long breath, before he said, “Okay.”

Mikleo sat up so he could pull off his shirt and let Sorey spread the towel under him before laying back down.  Sorey then sat on the bed, eyes skittish with nerves and hands curled into the fabric of his pants.  Mikleo swallowed down his own nerves and twitched his tail up to wrap around Sorey’s wrist.  “Hey,” he said firmly, “it will be okay.  This is something we both want, right?”

Sorey gave a sharp nod and took another deep breath.  “Right.  So, what next?”

“You write your name.  And while you do, think of what the name means to you, and what this bond will mean to you.”

He nodded again, and reached out to lightly brush his fingers down Mikleo’s chest, to the top of his ribs.  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mikleo couldn’t help his face screwing up in an attempt not to laugh.  He could see it cross Sorey’s face the moment he noticed, and then wiggling hands danced across his sides.  Mikleo fought to stay quiet, and lost, while his muscles twitched under the onslaught.

Sorey stopped once Mikleo was well and truly red in the face.  He waited, then until Mikleo caught his breath, wearing a goofy grin all the while.  Mikleo glared, but without much force behind it; he would have to get Sorey back for that later, but for now, if it helped him feel better, it was okay.  Sorey didn’t even blink at the glare, but instead leaned down to kiss his side and rub his thumb gently across the skin, before reaching back to the nightstand for the knife.  “Ready?”

Mikleo closed his eyes and tightened his hand in the sheet.  “Ready.  And remember, only think of what you want the name and the bond to mean.  Whatever thoughts we bring will be woven between us.”  He had never known what Uncle Michael had thought, when he inscribed his name on him, but Mikleo couldn’t help but wonder if that hadn’t been where some of it went wrong.  If Michael had thought of grief for his old fighter, or fulfilling duties which were necessary but unwanted, perhaps that would have explained some of the hardness in their relationship.  Hardness which hadn’t been there when they had only been uncle and nephew.

“I’m going to start,” Sorey warned, and then Mikleo felt the cold touch of the knife.

He peeled his thoughts away from Uncle Michael.  He wouldn’t let that come between them.  This was about Sorey, and him, and the name they would share.

The knife bit into Mikleo’s skin.  He took deep breaths, and did his best to relax his muscles, knowing that the pain would be worse if he was tense.  It wasn’t as bad as he expected, or remembered, really.  It was sharp, yes, and dragging, but not piercing or forceful; he’d felt much worse in his days of fighting, and he suspected Sorey was using a careful hand.

To his thoughts, Mikleo decided the name would be the easiest place to start.  He had already thought about Shepherd as something with evoked gentleness, kindness, leadership and a connection to living things.  A Shepherd must have the patience and serenity to care for their flock or for others, and the strength and cleverness to protect them.

By the shape of the stinging, Mikleo felt that Sorey must have finished the ‘s’ and the ‘h,’ and he turned his thoughts to the boy himself.  The first time they had met, Sorey had smiled so brightly and warmly, ready to welcome this person he didn’t even know into his life with open arms.  He had drawn him out with their shared love of books, and history, and learning, and then drawn him close with tiny touches, and the way he never hesitated to show just how much he cared for every person he knew.  This boy with his sharp mind, and penchant for cheesy poetry, and insistence that they were supposed to stand on equal ground, who never once was willing to stand anywhere but at Mikleo’s side.

Onto the second ‘e,’ and to their bond.  This was a hand in his, an arm around his shoulder, a wrist to tap against his own in support and congratulations.  The way his tail always seemed to want to wrap about Sorey’s wrist.  It was the opportunity to hold him tight, to kiss him, to protect him.  Sorey made Mikleo think, made him laugh, made him blush, made his heart constrict in his chest in the best ways.  Mikleo wanted to become a stronger, better fighter for him.  He wanted to build a life where they could be happy and at peace.

Mikleo’s head was swimming with dreams of what they could someday become when Sorey said, “done.”  He rose from his trance slowly, blinking Sorey’s green eyes into sight.  They were looking at him with something that struck rather like love.

“Thank you,” Mikleo whispered, rather hard pressed to find any other words to describe everything he was feeling.

Sorey set the knife aside, and leaned forward until he could bury his head in the pillow beside Mikleo’s, his hair brushing lightly at his cheek.  He was careful to hold his body up so that it wouldn’t press on the name.  “That was so scary,” he breathed into the fabric, releasing the tension in his voice with it.

Mikleo lifted a hand to gently run up and down his back, and asked, “Scary?  How so?”

“I was so afraid I would mess up, or cut too deep and hurt you.”

“It’s okay.  You did well.  It hardly even hurt,” he reassured.  Then he paused, a somewhat morbid curiosity getting the better of him.  If Sorey had been afraid…  “What did you think of?”

Sorey straightened up, and waved his hands in front of him, as he hastened to say, “I didn’t let myself think of how scary it was.  I thought about you; how I trust you, and don’t want you to hurt.  I thought about how much I love you.”

Mikleo drew in a breath, eyes wide.  They had said as much before, in gestures and different words, but never quite so directly.  “Me too.  I love you, too.”

Sorey grinned, so wide and bright that the edges of his eyes crinkled.  “I’m glad, because I really, really love you, Mikleo.  Now, let me clean you up.”

While he turned back to the nightstand to collect the bandages, Mikleo tilted his chin down to his chest and pulled his shoulders just up off the bed so he could look.  He winced; it doing that hurt just a bit, but he was determined.  It was difficult to see the name clearly with the way it was bleeding sluggishly, but what he could make out was simple lettering carved with a precise hand.  He smiled; for all Sorey’s worries about his hands shaking, they had been steady.

“Ah, don’t do that!” Sorey exclaimed when he turned back.  “Lay back down!  You can look in a mirror later, alright?”

“Alright.”  Mikleo lay back with a sigh of relief and let Sorey tend to him.  Warm hands cleaned away the blood with some wet gauze and then swabbed it down with stinging antiseptic.  His face tensed with pain for that part, but then relaxed again as a pad of bandaging was laid over the wound.  In the end, Mikleo did have to sit up again, to let Sorey wrap more bandages snuggly around his waist to keep it in place.  While he was up, Sorey handed him a painkiller and a glass of water to drink it down with.  He did so, gratefully.

When Mikleo settled back onto the pillows, he laughed.  “Now we match,” he said, using gentle fingers to brush across the bandaging around Sorey’s own torso.

“I guess we really do.”  Sorey hesitated, a mix of excitement and something just a bit unsure on his face.  “Can we try it?”

“We will need to work on a battle incantation, but for now, just say our name.”  Our name, our name.  Mikleo didn’t care that his side still stung; he was giddy.  Before Sorey could speak, he placed a hand on his cheek and drew him down until their foreheads touched.  The other hand laced their fingers together.  Then he nodded.

Sorey took a deep breath in, and together they said, “ **Shepherd**.”

Mikleo gasped as his whole body flooded with the cool tingling sensation of magic.  Before, it had always been so cold, almost enough to freeze his blood in his veins.  But now it was thrumming, alive and strong.  Their hearts fell into sync, and Mikleo clutched Sorey’s hand even harder.  He could get drunk on this feeling.

But, they were both still magically exhausted; it wouldn’t be good to maintain the link for too long.  He sighed and let the magic flow away.  It left him feeling a little bit empty, but that was okay because he still had Sorey’s hand in his, and bright green eyes looking at him with so much wonder.

Mikleo felt wetness gathering at the corners of his own eyes.  They widened in surprise; he couldn’t remember the last time he had cried.  Mikleo buried his face in Sorey’s shoulder before he could see.

It wasn’t quick enough.  Sorey poked his cheek and asked, with teasing in his voice, “Are you crying?”

“No, shut up!”

“Hmm whatever you say.  You really are amazing, though, Mikleo.  Is that what it feels like every time?”

He shook his head against Sorey’s shoulder.  “It never has before.  So I think it’s you.  You’re the amazing one.”

“And you complain about me being sappy.”

“Oh yes, and I am definitely going to continue.”  He felt a little better for the teasing, though.  Comfortable enough to move back and look at Sorey again.  As soon as he did, Sorey swooped in to kiss his nose, and his cheeks, and then finally his lips.  “You’re not doing anything to disprove my point.”

“I don’t want to.  I just want to kiss you.”

Mikleo liked this proposal.  He reached a hand up to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Sorey’s neck, and pulled him down for another kiss.  It started sweet, just like Sorey’s tiny kisses, but it didn’t take long at all for it to shift towards something heavier.  Even though they’d ended the name spell, Mikleo’s veins were still singing.

He smoothed his hands down Sorey’s neck and to his back.  He curled his fingers against his shoulder blades with gentle pressure.  Sorey hummed contentedly into his mouth, and Mikleo pressed up further, kissed deeper, wondering if he could taste the sound on his tongue.  At the same time he tightened his arms, trying to pull Sorey closer.

Sorey got the message.  He pulled away from the kiss so he could climb fully onto the bed.  He paused for a moment to look down at Mikleo, eyes hazy but full of adoration.

Instead of returning to Mikleo’s mouth, he leaned down to kiss at the curve of his neck, and then work his way down.  The kisses were soft, almost too light to feel, as Sorey moved across a collarbone and down his chest.  Once he reached the bandage at Mikleo’s side, he kissed that, too, the same way Mikleo had kissed his injury earlier in the afternoon.

Sorey tilted his head up to look at Mikleo again, and said, “I’m so, so glad I gave you my name.  I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share this with.”

Mikleo smiled, and turned away the thoughts that tried to insist that there was someone else out there who Sorey shared his name with.  In that moment, it didn’t matter; Sorey had chosen him.  “Me neither,” he whispered.

Sorey grinned, as brilliant as anything, and moved to kiss the bandage again.  Then, he started to work his way back up Mikleo’s chest.  With each kiss, he got bolder.  First, just a bit more pressure, then small flicks of his tongue and a light graze of teeth.  Mikleo’s knees bent, toes dragging against the sheets, and he fought to keep his torso still; it felt like all of him was straining to curl up under the sensation.

Sorey’s mouth made its way to his collarbones, and Mikleo could feel his pulse fluttering under his tongue as shivers of sensation ran up and down his spine.  His hands made their way back up to tangle in Sorey’s hair as he began to suck, and his tail flicked around his wrist like an anchor.  There was a litany of tiny sounds that spilled from his mouth at the touch, which only increased in volume and insistence as Sorey abandoned his spot in favor of finding a new one on Mikleo’s neck.

There were more ways for two people to come together than in a spell, Mikleo knew.  And in that moment, he wanted all of them with Sorey.  Some small, logical part of his brain said this was a bad idea regarding both of their injuries, but he squashed it down with vehemence.

“Hey Sorey,” he started, and then paused to swallow and gather his voice so it wouldn’t stutter or crack.  His hands made their way up to the base of Sorey’s ears to scratch, and was satisfied with the heated hum against his skin.  “How attached are you to these?”

Sorey moved back so he could meet Mikleo’s eyes, and there was wanting swimming in his gaze.  “Oh, not nearly enough,” he said.  He lifted his hand, to do what, Mikleo didn’t get to find out.  He stopped the motion halfway through and brought his arm up to his own face instead, so he could place a kiss on Mikleo’s tail.  “I will miss this, though.”

Mikleo could feel the heat in his face and his vision threatening to blur over.  It was all he could do to drag Sorey down for another kiss, with the press of tongues, and teeth on lips, and a struggle for air when they parted again.  “I’ll wear fakes, if you want,” Mikleo finally gathered himself enough to say.

“Won’t be the same.  You’ll have to hold my hand a lot instead, okay?”

“Anything.  I’ll do anything you want.”

Mikleo suspected that Sorey would have come up with something to say, or do in response to that.  It probably would have even been sexy, or at the very least cheesy.  Certainly nothing like what did occur, which was Sorey’s stomach growling loud enough to wake the dead.

There was beat where they met each other’s eyes and stared, neither quite sure what to do next.  Sorey moved first, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head, while his face took on a sheepish expression.  “Well, I think my stomach wants food,” he said with a small laugh.

It took a moment for the absurdity of the situation to overcome Mikleo’s lingering surprise.  When it did, he began to laugh as well, spurring Sorey on into even more mirth.  “I – I really – think it does,” he managed breathlessly though the continuing laughter.

“S – Sorry,” Sorey wheezed, “I really – ruined the moment – didn’t I?”

“No, it’s – good.  It’s okay.  We should probably – have something to eat.”  Mikleo’s sides and lungs were starting to hurt from laughing so hard.  Which in turn made the name hurt even more, so he concentrated on taking deep, steadying breaths, and not looking at Sorey’s face.  If he did, he knew he’d start laughing again.  Once he had himself under control, and it sounded like Sorey was approaching that point, too, he said, “I have a suggestion.”

“Oh?”

“Why don’t we go and get some food.  And then we can come right back here and finish what we started.”

Since Sorey hadn’t let out a laugh through this whole statement, Mikleo decided it was safe to look back at him again.  His face was red and tiny tears glistened at the corners of his eyes.  But he nodded emphatically anyway.  “I like this plan.”

Instead of making any moves to get out of bed, Sorey ducked down to nuzzle his cheek against Mikleo’s.  One of his hands moved to the top of his head to pet Mikleo’s ear, his finger just barely rubbing against the outer edge.

Mikleo gasped at the sensation.  He was torn three ways, between wanting to nuzzle back because it made his chest feel so warm and tight, to be responsible and get dinner, or to just throw that responsibility right out the window and pick back up right where they left off.  Responsibility won out.  “Alright, stop that,” he chided gently, “before your stomach growls again.”  Internally, he added, and before I get so distracted that I pick option three instead.

“If you insist,” Sorey said, amusement in his voice.  He did sit up, and let Mikleo up, too.  He was even good enough to let Mikleo pull back on his shirt, but he did take a moment to blush and comment, “that’s my shirt.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Mikleo replied, voice casual, but blushing too.

Almost immediately after the top was back on, Sorey wrapped his arms around Mikleo’s waist, ever careful to not touch the name.  Standing up like that was a struggle, but one that they managed.  It would be less manageable to accomplish anything else given the way that as soon as they were up, Sorey had taken to nibbling and lipping gently at the soft tip of Mikleo’s ear.

Mikleo did his best to keep his composure, and started shuffling them in the direction of the door.  Sorey followed, and hung on for all he was worth.  “I am not going to be able to cook anything if you keep distracting me like that,” he said, trying to sound harsh but failing around the fondness that seeped through.  One of his hands came up to cup the back of Sorey’s where they rested on his stomach.

“Hmm, that’s okay.”

“You’re resigning yourself to burnt dinner.”

“I’m sure I’ll love anything you make.  And then, right back up here,” Sorey reminded.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Mikleo agreed with an exasperated tone.  But he was smiling.  He turned his head for a kiss, just to make sure Sorey knew it.  Sorey obliged, squeezing Mikleo tighter and tilting their heads together.  Just before their lips could meet, Mikleo murmured, “Love you, Sorey.”  He didn’t need to see Sorey’s face to know that now he was smiling, too.


End file.
